Prompt Week Six: When you arrived it was nothing like you imagined.....

                My wooden sandals clicked on the brick sidewalk as I walked down Spring Garden Drive in Halifax, Nova Scotia. I clumsily weaved in and around the swarm of people, mostly students arriving for the start of the school year. It was hot and the sun still burned late into the afternoon offering no relief; I was too far from the ocean to feel the salty breeze. Sticky and sweaty, my cotton sundress stuck to my legs as I explored my new home.

                The foot traffic was surprisingly heavy; few people drove.  People in khaki shorts and brightly colored polo shirts laughed with their friends as they strolled down the brick sidewalk. They gazed into storefront windows looking at bright pieces of local art and jewelry, scarves, and second-hand clothes. They stopped to read menus displayed on the front door of restaurants, looked at the long lines of people waiting for an outdoor patio seat and walked on, envious of the people sitting outside in black metal chairs drinking pitchers of beer and eating wings.

                I stopped at the intersection and pressed the “walk” button. Cars sped past me, up the narrow hill, in a hurry to get where they were going. Across the street, a man in a white and red striped tee-shirt had set up a hotdog cart.  His sliding glass window was open and a line of ten hungry people wrapped around his small but lucrative business. His patrons waited patiently for their thick hotdogs and greedily topped them with sauerkraut, mustard, ketchup, and fried onions. Some spooned hot chili on theirs; my stomach growled.

                The light turned green and sign told me to walk. I walked in the crosswalk across four lanes of traffic and down a block crammed with tall, cement buildings; apartment complexes with balconies in each one. Coming to another intersection, I was intoxicated by the smell of greasy pizza, blinded by bright fluorescent lights. Each corner was packed with people going in and out of the pizza joints. Large pieces of pizza spun in circles in their warmers and each shop advertised its own unique flavor. A young boy with long blonde hair squeezed by me carrying the largest piece of pizza I’d ever seen in one hand and a white, creamy sauce in the other. I had found Pizza Corner.

                I continued down the surprisingly vibrant street until I found a lush flower garden on my left. A bride in white silk and lace stood facing the love of her life in front of a white gazebo, surrounded by family and friends. The tears in her eyes genuine as she kissed her husband and everybody, strangers and invited wedding guests alike, clapped. Smiling, I strolled downhill towards the ocean as a kid on a bike sped past me. Young girls dressed in identical plaid uniforms and shiny black Mary Janes filed down the steps of a stone Catholic church to meet their parents. The street was filled with excitement, of positivity. Impeccably clean with trash cans labeled either “trash” or “recycling”, there was no litter on the sidewalk to ruin the beauty and perfection of the day.